Always Expect the Unexpected
by Queen Madisyn of Narnia
Summary: Juliet and Erik hate each other, both for different reasons. But with their tragic pasts, will they learn to forgive and forget? E/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, this story came to me a bit randomly. I kept thinking about how almost every phan fiction revolves around Erik falling in love. Well, what if there was a girl who absolutely hated him? Here's that girl, dear readers, Juliet Louise Thompson. She despises our dear phantom. What will happen? Read to find out!**

~0~0~0~0~0~

_Chapter 1: A Close Encounter With The Opera Ghost Kind_

Erik wasn't in the best mood. The seventeen year old boy paced the catacombs of the Opera Populaire, deciding whether he should return to piecing together his desk, the third desk this year; the rest had broken unexpectedly.

That's when he heard the voice. It was a little girl. She was in a small, candlelit room, facing a small tribute that read "Gustave Daae". The girl had curly brown hair, deep brown eyes, which were red and puffy from crying, and a very small form. The girl sat in front of the tribute, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Father, I miss you," the little girl sobbed. "Father, I'm so alone."

A tear slid down Erik's unmasked cheek.

"You told me you'd send me the angel of music, Father," she murmured. "When will he come to me?"

A crazy idea popped into Erik's head. Angel of Music… he liked the title.

Maybe…

Erik sprinted back to his lair, grabbed his violin carefully, and sprinted back to the room with the sad little girl. He considered several songs he could play, and decided on a soft French lullaby.

The girl gasped, jumping up. She listened intently to the beautiful music seeming to come from nowhere, and panicked when it was over.

"W-who's there?" she asked, stuttering.

Erik chuckled lightly. "I am your Angel of Music. Your father sent me to you."

A smile spread over the girl's face, brightening her features. "Father sent you? To me?"

Erik smiled for the first time in ages. "He did. Tell me, what is your name?"

The girl, still looking around the room for her angel said, "My name is Christine."

"You cannot see me," he said. "Angels, to the human eye, are invisible."

Then something occurred to him. "Can you sing, Christine?"

She frowned. "Not well, angel."

"Sing," he commanded softly.

Christine mused her song options, choosing a song her father sang to her many times.

Erik could hear the true potential in her voice. But there were some rough spots in her singing, and he knew he could fix them.

"You've got a wonderful voice," Erik said. "But it needs work. I shall teach you, Christine. Someday, you shall be the lead soprano, here at the Opera Populaire."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

Erik smiled. "Really." He paused, thinking. "Meet me here every Tuesday for your lessons."

"Thank you, angel!" Christine called, running out of the room joyfully.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Erik was, once more, in a bad mood.

It had been three weeks since he'd taken the title of the Angel of Music. This particular Tuesday's lesson hadn't ended well, and resulted in Christine leaving in tears. Erik wasn't even sure how that'd happened.

Erik slouched in his seat in Box 5. It was very late at night, and he should be sleeping, but he couldn't.

What caught his eye that night was a lone girl, standing in the middle of the stage. She wore a sleeveless, low cut, cream colored nightgown, with a deep blue cloak draped over her shoulders. Her strawberry blond hair cascaded down her back, ending at her hips. Erik couldn't make out her facial features, but he could tell she was crying from the sniffling sounds she made.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, remaining in the shadows of Box 5. Slowly and quietly, he climbed atop the rafters in the ceiling, yet remained hidden. He wanted to get a better look at the crying girl.

"Who's there?" she asked sharply, her head snapping up. Her clear blue eyes shone with tears, her full pink lips formed a frown.

Erik blinked, returning to his concern for the girl.

When Erik didn't answer, she realized it was he. "It's you!" she cried. Erik noted a very strong Irish accent. It was cute. "The Phantom of the Opera, isn't that what they call you?"

"What did I do to deserve your disapproval?" he asked, curious. Such a strange girl- most people feared him!

"My mother and father," she said slowly, her tone pained, "hate me. Wish I was never born. Just because I'm different. I want to become a singer someday, even when my family insists on me simply being married off and forgotten. They only care about my perfect sister, because she does what they say. Pompous brat."

She took a deep breath, becoming very emotional. "So they sent me to the Opera Populaire, the farthest opera from my home in Ireland. Not only was it far from home, but I overheard my mother tell my father that she hoped the Opera Ghost decided to take me as a victim and kill me!"

Erik's eyes went wide as the girl returned to sobbing. The poor girl. He could relate to her pain so well, having had run away to the gypsies thanks to his own parents. But he loved them, and if Erik wasn't wanted somewhere, Erik didn't stay. He was different, but not a good different. His hideous face, deformed and distorted, set him apart from normal men.

"I'm so very sorry," he said truthfully.

"Oh, I bet you are," she remarked.

"I have a very similar past to yours," he said distantly. Flashes of being beaten by gypsies and onlookers laughing in his face passed through his mind. He shook his head, as to banish those thoughts.

The girl looked up curiously, yet said nothing.

"What is your name?" Erik asked.

She frowned, then slowly replied. "Juliet."

"Do you have a last name?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Can't I just be curious?"

Juliet sighed. "My name is Juliet Lenora Thompson. Better now, Phantom?"

Erik laughed. "Much."

"What's your name?" she asked.

Erik tensed. "I don't really ever use it, I'm used to being referred to as either the phantom, Opera Ghost, or, in my childhood, the Devil's Child." He regretted saying the last part.

"Devil's Child?" she asked.

"None of your business!" Erik snapped harshly. Juliet winced.

"Sorry… once again, your name, Monsieur Phantom?"

Erik sighed. "Erik."

"Do _you _have a last name?"

"Does it matter?"

"Can't I just be curious?"

"Destler. Erik Destler."

"Well, it's been nice talking to you, Monsieur Destler," said Juliet, standing up. "But I must go."

"Shall I see you again?" Erik asked.

She grimaced. "Just because you've been pretty nice and I know your name doesn't mean I like you, so I hope it's a no. You ruined my life, and that's not something I'm likely to forget soon."

With a sigh of despair, Juliet stalked out of the theater, leaving behind a very confused and helpless Erik.

_I'll get her_, Erik thought. _I'll show her who runs this theater, one way or another._


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2: Just My Luck_

Juliet was bored. Very, very bored. Ballet lessons had just ended, and she was now eating her lunch by herself. Very few of the ballet girls were fond of her, and her Irish accent made some of her words hard to decipher.

Juliet was bored, and very alone. It seemed that all girls were treated like her parents had treated her, yet other girls obeyed. Juliet did not; she wanted to be her own person, which led to her being sent to the Opera Populaire in the first place. Maybe her parents hoped her to find a husband, maybe they hoped her to die.

The Opera Ghost. Juliet shuddered, thinking about the night before. Such a strange boy. Who would choose to live underground, stealing and extorting money, when you could lead a normal life above ground.

The only conclusion Juliet had drawn was to get away from the cruelties of reality, and the world. That kind of life seemed ideal for a girl like her.

Juliet wandered around the halls near the dormitories. She reached an abandoned corridor near the entrance to the backstage area of the opera, when suddenly, the oil lamps and lights in the hall mysteriously went out.

Juliet rolled her eyes. "If you're trying to scare me, you're not doing a really great job," she said knowingly.

A pair of arms caught her from behind, locking around her waist. Juliet gasped, surprised. She struggled to free herself, but to no avail.

"We meet again," Erik whispered in her ear.

"No kidding," she muttered, turning herself around. Piercing golden eyes bore into her own blue ones. She shivered involuntarily, squirming in his tight grasp.

Erik chuckled. Juliet glared.

"What do you want?" she asked, frustrated.

"I'm warning you," he said, "to not get on my nerves. Or your parents will be right." Erik idly tapped the Punjab lasso attached to his belt.

Juliet sighed dramatically. "Of course. Mr. Destler here has a nasty temper, doesn't he?"

Erik growled. "I'm serious, Miss Thompson. If you irritate me just enough, I won't hesitate to kill you. I have little patience, so when I ask something of you, you do it."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Try me."

"Sing."

Juliet gaped at him.

"You want to be a singer," he said impatiently. 'Now sing."

"No."

Erik gripped her tighter. "No?"

"You heard me."

"I don't take _no _for an answer," he said. "_Sing_."

"I don't _have _to," Juliet growled.

"Don't tempt me," he said, lowering the Punjab lasso over her head with one hand, gripping her waist with the other arm. Erik tightened the lasso just enough to Juliet to gasp in fright.

"Now, how do you expect me to sing with a noose around my neck?" she asked tauntingly, daring him to remove it.

Erik, taking the bait, slowly removed the lasso, but kept a good grip on her. Juliet struggled once more, turning away from him. His arm was slipping slightly; just a bit farther and she'd be free.

But Erik wasn't going to let that happen. He wrapped both arms around her, turned her to face him, forced her against the stone wall, and gripped her neck dangerously tight. Juliet's eyes went wide with fear, her face draining of color. She let out a cry of pain as her leg was cut by a sharp edge in the wall.

"You'll do as I ask," Erik said. Juliet nodded fervently.

Erik set her down on the stone floor, examining her leg. The cut was deep, inches away from the bone.

_Sharp brick_, Erik thought sarcastically. _Just my luck._

"The cut is deep, and if not treated soon, will become infected," Erik said.

"You forgot something," Juliet said harshly. "It's your fault."

Erik sighed. "Please forgive me, Miss Thompson. I don't have much patience."

"I see," she said, arguing no further. Juliet did disagree with him, however, when Erik picked her up.

"I can walk," she growled. "Put me down, Mr. Destler."

"With that injury?" he inquired sarcastically. "I don't think so."

Juliet knew he was pushing her, and said next to nothing on the journey to- well, she honestly didn't know where they were going.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"My home," he said simply, managing to open a hidden stone door with one hand.

"Your home? Oh, wonderful…" she said, only able to imagine how wonderful it really was.

Upon reaching the underground lake, Erik set her in the gondola, rowing it through the catacombs. They floated through the catacombs in silence.

Soon, the gondola reached Erik's home. Juliet was amazed when she saw the thousands of candles illuminating the small island of land surrounded by the lake. In one corner, a pipe organ resided, on another, a half assembled desk lay. There were many doors, a plentiful amount of mirrors, and piles of sheet music lay askew near the organ.

One particular piece of music caught her eye. The title read "Don Juan Triumphant". The sheet only contained a few notes, but on the organ's music stand, a folder with the same title lay. Juliet guessed it was a piece Erik had yet to finish.

"You have a nice home," she said, still taking in her surroundings as Erik lifted her from the boat, carrying her in the direction of his bedroom. He carefully placed her on the swan bed, examining the wound, then retrieving his medical supplies from a dresser drawer.

Juliet winced as Erik began to stitch the cut, which was worse than she thought. The cut ran from the middle of her calf, all the way to her knee, and part of her thigh. Erik had done plenty of damage.

As Erik began stitching, Juliet grew curious of his mask. She'd noticed it before, but it had just hit her that she'd never seen what was beneath it.

"Why do you wear a mask?" she asked curiously.

Erik stopped cold, fear that she'd take the mask off filling him. He continued to stitch the wound, ignoring her question.

Juliet let the silence be for a while, but when he'd finished stitching and still hadn't answered her question, she repeated it, with a bit of edge.

Erik glared at her, grabbing her arm with force. "_Never _touch my mask."

Juliet gulped, nodding her conformation. Erik relaxed.

"Forgive me, Miss Thompson," he said. "But you don't want to see what's under it, and I've dealt with enough rejection."

Juliet felt bad for him. _One of these days_, she thought, _I'm going to find out what's under that mask._

Erik returned her to the ballet dormitories silently.

"Goodbye, Miss Thompson," he said.

With a roll of her eyes, Juliet was gone, walking off to her bed.

Both Juliet and Erik returned to their homes bored once more and very, very alone.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3: The New Girl_

It had been three days since Juliet's painful encounter with Erik, and the wound was definitely still there. Madame Giry had treated it and replaced the stitches; apparently she knew Erik, and knew his temper, as well.

"His temper will do things like this to you," she had said. Juliet had agreed fully; she had experienced his wrath, and hoped to never again make him angry.

Still, that was easier said than done. Especially when he sees your every move, and will know what you're doing every second. Not the most comfortable position.

Juliet had tried to erase Erik from her mind completely, yet she had reminders of him everywhere. When a candle went out, she suspected him of blowing it, when she was in complete darkness, she could have sworn seeing his form hiding in the shadows. That man was everywhere!

Juliet wandered the halls on many an occasion, having nothing else to do. On most wanderings, Erik followed her. He was very interested in the way this strange girl acted. While most feared him, Juliet hated him, rolling her eyes and walking away from him.

"Juliet…" The name seemed to come from everywhere, yet nowhere.

"Juliet…" Erik's voice repeated, close to her ear. Juliet spun around, only to find that no one was there. Regaining her composure, Juliet walked on.

Erik laughed quietly. Juliet scowled, rolling her eyes, and continued to walk. She walked out into the lobby, where she saw a new girl being greeted by the manager, Monsieur Lefevre. Judging from the ballet shoes slung across the girl's shoulder, Juliet would be seeing her often.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Thompson!" Monsieur Lefevre greeted. "This is Mademoiselle Mary Alexander. Might you be able to show her to the dormitories?" His expression seemed to add, "And make sure the phantom stays away from the new girl!"

"Oui, Monsieur Lefevre," Juliet said. "Right this way, mademoiselle."

"Please, call me Molly. It's a nickname of mine," she said.

"Of course, Molly," said Juliet with a smile. "As long as you call me Juliet."

"Greetings," a voice familiar to Juliet said.

"Monsieur Lefevre wants you to stay away from Molly," Juliet snapped at the Opera Ghost's voice.

Erik chuckled. "Yes, but does he run this opera?"

"Yes."

He laughed again. "Miss Thompson, this is my opera. I shall do what I please."

Juliet grimaced, walking onward, Molly following her hesitantly.

"I shall see you both soon," the voice breathed.

Molly's eyes went wide. Turning from the figure she could now faintly see in the shadows, she ran to catch up to Juliet.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Juliet lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, bored. Molly sat on her own bed.

"Do you always just lay around?" Molly asked.

"Sometimes I walk around," Juliet said with a smile. "But, thanks to some very annoying ghost, I no longer do so."

"Does he follow you?" she asked curiously.

"Yes. I guess it's because I'm the only one who isn't afraid of him. I actually hate him very much, for, ah, family reasons."

"Why?" she asked.

Juliet sighed. "My parents hate me, so they sent me to the only opera in the world haunted by a murdering ghost."

Molly looked at her sympathetically.

"He is very harmful," Juliet mused. "I learned that the hard way."

Molly raised an eyebrow. Juliet lifted her skirt to show her the stitches on her right leg.

From behind the wall, in a secret corridor, Erik winced at the sight of the wound. He hadn't meant to harm the girl, only to scare her.

Molly gasped. "He did that to you?"

"Not intentionally," she said. "He was warning me of his temper, and got a little carried away. Besides, he stitched it up. He really isn't all that bad." Juliet scowled. "Still, he ruined my life, and that's not something I'll easily forgive him of."

Erik sighed. He hadn't made her an outcast on purpose!

"Hello," said Juliet.

"Was I really all that loud?" Erik asked. "I'm usually not easy to see or hear."

Molly's eyes went wide. "Um, I, ah, have to go."

Molly jumped out of bed and ran out the door. Juliet laughed.

"I don't see why she's afraid of you," she said.

"Hmmm, maybe because I'm a killer?" he suggested, sneaking up on Juliet, clasping his hands around her throat. She gasped, turning around.

"That might account for it," she said with a grimace.

"Please, Miss Thompson," Erik pleaded. "I'm sorry that you're an outcast. I'm sorry about your wound, which I caused. Won't you ever forgive me?"

Juliet smirked. "We'll see."

Erik relaxed a bit, sitting beside her.

"Don't you have better things to do than talk to a lonely ballerina?" Juliet asked harshly.

"Honestly, I don't," Erik said with a chuckle. "Besides, you don't look all that lonely, talking to the new girl."

"She left because of you," Juliet accused.

"But she's a friend to you all the same," he said. "And you can go talk to her once I've left."

Erik didn't really want to leave. He had taken a liking to Juliet.

_Not that she'd ever love you,_ he thought. _Not only does her past prevent her, but so does your face._

"I shall go," said Erik sadly. "The Opera Ghost does not stay where he is not wanted."

Juliet watched him leave. Once she was certain Erik was gone (luckily for her, he really was), she broke down into tears.

She felt his pain. They were both outcasts, but he'd tried to be nice. Except for the wound- but it had not been intentional.

Why was she crying for this man? She hated him, for crying out loud!

Molly returned suddenly, gasping when she saw Juliet crying.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing," Juliet said, wiping away her tears. "He did nothing."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4: The New Patron_

That Saturday, after Molly had left town to visit her sick cousin, Juliet found herself quite alone. She wandered around, as usual, when a French folk song of her childhood came to her. Having not much else to do, she sang.

_Au clair de la lune_

_Mon ami Pierrot_

_Prête-moi ta plume_

_Pour écrire un mot_

_Ma chandelle est morte_

_Je n'ai plus de feu_

_Ouvre-moi ta porte_

_Pour l'amour de Dieu_

Not long after she finished the song did she hear footsteps behind her. She spun around, half expecting Erik, remembering later that Erik made no noise when he walked.

Instead, she saw a man about her age. The man had sandy blond hair, soft blue eyes, and a smile on his face. He looked like a man of wealth; his clothing seemed quite expensive.

"Was that you singing?" the man asked.

Juliet blushed. "Yes. Forgive me, monsieur, I didn't-"

"Forgive you for what?" he asked. "You have a wonderful voice. Are you in the chorus, or perhaps, a lead soprano here?"

Juliet shook her head. "No, monsieur. I am a ballerina here. Though I wish to join the chorus…"

The man smiled. "Forgive me, my name is Patrick. Patrick Chevalier."

"Nice to meet you, Monsieur Chevalier," said Juliet. "My name is Juliet Thompson."

"Ah, Monsieur Chevalier!" Monsieur Lefevre said. "Miss Thompson, this is our newest patron."

"Patron?" she inquired.

"I was going to mention that," Patrick said.

"Please, monsieur. I am sure you did not come to socialize with mere ballerinas. Our lead soprano, La Carlotta, would be much pleased to meet you," Lefevre said.

"Yes, about that," Patrick said. "I'd like to speak with you about sopranos…"

With a wink at Juliet, Patrick left, Lefevre close behind.

"The boy seems interested in you," Erik said.

Juliet turned around, still in a daze from her encounter with the new patron.

"Still," he continued. "He's not worthy of you."

Juliet was stunned. "Excuse me?"

Erik mentally cursed himself. How could he let that slip?

"You deserve better than him," he said bluntly.

Juliet raised an eyebrow. "What are you implying, Erik?"

Erik panicked. "I'm not implying anything. By the way," he said, changing the subject, "you _do _have a lovely voice."

Juliet blushed, turning away.

"I'd _much _rather hear you sing than that toad, La Carlotta," he said with a laugh.

"You're changing the subject," she accused. "You said Monsieur Chevalier was not worthy of me. Why?"

"I…" He trailed off. There was a long silence after that, so long that Juliet thought he had left.

"Erik?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

Not sure how to put it in words, Erik made a split decision and kissed her.

Neither Juliet nor Erik had any experience kissing. It was a bit awkward at first, but eventually they realized what was happening.

Juliet was shocked. The kiss not only seemed to make her pity him more, but it seemed to feed her hate towards him.

Erik was surprised at himself, and felt sorry for Juliet. The girl hated him, for crying out loud! What had he been thinking?

Eventually Erik, who had started the kiss, ended it. Juliet stared at him, open mouthed, for some time before becoming infuriated at him.

"What was that for?" she demanded. "You don't love _me_, you love my voice, and I don't love you, _nor _your voice!"

Erik was hurt, very hurt. For deep down, he loved her. And very, very, very, very, _very _deep down, Juliet was much the same towards him. But her hate of him prior to meeting him seemed to overpower her love for him. Besides, there was the patron to think about…

"I _hate _you!" she yelled, storming off in tears. "Never speak to me _again_!"

Once reaching the ballet dormitories, Juliet fell to her bed, tears spilling down her face.

"I hate you, Erik," she sobbed, hoping he could hear. "I _hate _you!"


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5: la Chanson de Joyau_

Week after lonely week passed. Erik watched Juliet and Patrick fall in love, though they wouldn't admit it. Erik found himself growing jealous of the new patron.

_Nothing you can do about it now,_ Erik thought. _She still hates you, no doubt. _

He _still _didn't exactly see why being the Opera Ghost ruined her life- ah…

She was homesick. Erik could see it clearly now. That first night, she'd been crying because she missed her home, and when Erik showed up, and she told him that she'd been sent to France by her parents, and she lived in _Ireland_… that was quite far away. If he hadn't haunted an opera in France, maybe Juliet would've gone to an Irish opera house instead.

Poor Juliet. He felt bad for the girl.

But he'd make it up to her. Quickly, Erik ran to his now finished desk, and scribbled out a note to Monsieur Lefevre and Monsieur Reyer, the maestro. He made his way up the rafters hastily, dropping the note at Lefevre's feet.

Sighing, Lefevre picked up the note with the red skull stamp. Lefevre opened the letter slowly, reading;

_Monsieur Lefevre, Monsieur Reyer,_

_It is high time that La Carlotta was replaced. She is far past her prime, and her voice is dreadful, anyways. But I have a replacement in mind. Have you heard Mademoiselle Thompson sing? She has a wonderful voice. It is obvious she's been tutored in her home in Ireland. She would be a perfect Marguerite in your upcoming performance of Faust. If Carlotta sings the role, a terrible disaster, which I'd rather not cause, will occur._

_I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant,_

_O.G_

Lefevre sighed. Mademoiselle Thompson? Replace Carlotta?

But if the Phantom ordered it, it was done.

"Mademoiselle Thompson," Lefevre called one night during a rehearsal for a ballet in the final act of Faust.

"Yes, monsieur?" Juliet asked, walking up to him.

"You have been… requested… to sing the part of Marguerite in Faust," Lefevre said.

"Me?" she asked suspiciously, suspecting Erik to be behind it. Or maybe Patrick… most likely Erik.

"You do sing, correct?" he asked. Juliet nodded.

"Maestro?" Lefevre asked. "We need the aria 'la Chanson de Joyau' played for Mademoiselle Thompson."

"I am rehearsing!" Reyer complained. "Very well."

Lefevre motioned to the front of the stage. Juliet, stepping forward hesitantly, noticed a very angry Carlotta storming to the side of the stage. Erik stayed hidden in the rafters, awaiting her performance. The rest of the company watched with curiosity as Juliet began the famous aria.

_Ah! je ris de me voir _

_si belle en ce miroir, _

_Ah! je ris de me voir _

_si belle en ce miroir,_

_Est-ce toi, Marguerite, _

_est-ce toi?_

_Réponds-moi, réponds-moi, _

_Réponds, réponds, réponds vite! _

_Non! Non! ce n'est plus toi! _

_Non...non, _

_ce n'est plus ton visage;_

_C'est la fille d'un roi; _

_c'est la fille d'un roi! _

_Ce n'est plus toi, _

_ce n'est plus toi, _

_C'est la fille d'un roi; _

_Qu'on salut au passage! _

_Ah s'il était ici! _

_S'il me voyait ainsi! _

_Comme une demoiselle _

_Il me trouverait belle, Ah! _

_Comme une demoiselle, _

_il me trouverait belle, _

_Comme une demoiselle, _

_il me trouverait belle! _

_Marguerite, Ce n'est plus toi! _

_Ce n'est plus ton visage; _

_La, ce n'est plus ton visage; _

_Qu'on salut au passage! _

The company clapped adoringly, relieved at the new voice. Carlotta, on the other hand, was not at all happy.

"Our new lead soprano!" Lefevre cried, clapping. Juliet blushed, bowed, and hurried off the stage.

"Juliet!" Patrick called, running after her.

"Monsieur, hello," she said.

"Please, call me Patrick," he said with a slight laugh.

Juliet smiled. "Alright, Patrick."

"You did wonderfully out there," he said. "Would you likw to... go out to dinner with me?"

Juliet nodded. "I'd love to," she said. "Just let me change, I'll be right out."

"Ah, Mademoiselle Thompson," Lefevre greeted. "Allow me to show you to your new room."

Juliet followed Lefevre, turning to wave at Patrick. He smiled, leaving the hallway.

Lefevre opened the door to an elaborate dressing room. The walls were a deep maroon with subtle rose designs, a vanity with gold embellishments, a wardrobe full of costumes and clothes, and a bed in the corner.

After Lefevre left, Juliet changed into a deep blue formal gown, setting a dressing gown of a similar color on her vanity chair. With one last glance at her new room, Juliet left.

A few minutes after Juliet left the room, Erik picked the lock on the door and entered. He set a bouquet of roses and a note on her dresser, then returned to the catacombs.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Dang, this is short_! Sorry, but when I tried to make it longer, it sounded really stupid. So here you go.

_Chapter 6: Only Expected_

Rehearsals seemed to drag on forever. Luckily for Juliet, they were soon over, and the opening night of Faust arrived. Juliet peered through the curtains nervously, returning to the dressing room to quickly grab her hand mirror. Not long after she entered the room did she spot Erik, standing in the shadows of the room.

"What do you want?" she spat. Erik winced slightly before advancing.

"I wanted to merely wish you luck," he said.

"When will you just leave me alone?" Juliet asked angrily.

"Never," he growled, constricting his arms around her as she attempted to leave the room. Juliet grasped desperately at the door handle, but it was to no avail.

"You should be thanking me, you know," he whispered coldly in her ear. "I set up your career, and I can take it down just as easily."

"Take it down all you like, just leave me alone," she said, trying to escape his vice tight grasp.

"I think I'll make you suffer just a bit longer. You've lived perfectly these past few months, especially with the patron, not to mention your wonderful career. It's high time I enjoyed myself."

"Please, let me go!" she begged, taking the meaning of his words the wrong way.

"You know, I don't think I will," he said evilly. "I'm having quite a bit of fun right now."

Juliet spun around in his grasp. Their faces were merely inches apart.

"I'll take off your mask," she threatened.

That stopped Erik cold. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, but I would," Juliet said with a smirk.

"Take it off, then," he challenged. "I'd love to see your reaction to the monster under the mask." Juliet hesitated. "Go on! Take it off, take it off and die!" He grasped her even harder, taking her hand into his and ripping off the mask.

Juliet's eyes went wide. Erik's face was hideous- deformed and distorted flesh and skin served as the right side of his face. He had no right eyebrow, his eyelid was red and puffy, deformed as well. The distorted skin reached from his forehead to his cheek, branching across his jaw and mangling his ear.

Juliet tried to scream, but Erik clamped a gloved hand over her mouth before she could make a sound. His eyes welled up with tears, his expression devastated.

"Only expected," he mumbled, replacing the mask. "Go."

Juliet ran, all too glad to escape to the stage. Erik watched her go, tears spilling down his face.

Erik bent down to pick up something on the floor; apparently Juliet had dropped it on her way out. It was a rose. A crumpled up rose. With a black ribbon.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7: A Splendid Party_

A year had passed since Juliet's debut in Faust. An entire year. A year of peace, a year of wonderful performances, and, most of all, a year with no disturbances from the Opera Ghost.

Erik, on the other hand, had been very busy. He had recently ended his lessons with Christine, telling her that she needed them no more. He'd set to work on "Don Juan Triumphant", determined for Juliet to play the lead female. With this, he could win her heart.

Erik hadn't planned on using "Don Juan" for anything, but when Juliet began courting the new patron, he realized that this was the only way for her to finally be his. He would use his seductive voice to lure her into his trap, then escape with her. The plan was flawless, and with the set design he had planned, he couldn't be stopped. On the bridge above the stage, where the song, "Past the Point of No Return" reaches it's climatic end, he would set up a trap door; the perfect escape route.

Tonight would be the perfect night to give the manager his work to perform. Tonight was the Opera Populaire's annual New Year's Eve Masquerade Ball. Erik dressed in his signature Red Death costume, sword in belt, "Don Juan" in hand.

Juliet, on the other hand, would be attending the ball with Patrick. She and Molly had worked together on costumes, home made, and they'd turned out wonderfully. Molly wore a dress made of teal fabrics, in the likeness of a mermaid. Juliet's dress, made of simple cream and gold fabrics, made her look like a princess. She wore a tiara on her head, her golden hair flowed down her back in wavy curls; the only problem she had with the outfit was that the sleeves, which rested on her shoulders, tended to slip just a bit.

The spectacle began outside the opera, where a firework's display lit up the evening sky. Magnificent colors reigned in the night, and the party gradually moved into the lobby of the Opera Populaire for food, drink, and dancing.

"May I have this dance?" Patrick asked, bowing.

Juliet laughed quietly. "You may."

It was a sight to see. Colorful costumes spun around the dance floor while enchanting music played, setting a mysterious mood.

Erik took advantage of the distractions of the night. Sneaking to the source of the lights in the room, an array of candles at the top of the staircase, he blew them out. Using one of his many talents (to this day, no one, not even I, know how he did it, but he did), Erik blew out every candle in the room, without moving an inch.

"Relax, ladies and gentlemen," Monsieur Lefevre said. "Just a draft that blew out the candles. We'll have them relit as soon as possible."

As soon as the room was filled with lights, gasps and screams rose to Erik's ears.

The Phantom had joined the party.

Juliet gripped Patrick's arm in fear.

"Patrick," she said. "It's _him_. He doesn't leave me alone. He follows me everywhere, Patrick."

Patrick instinctively moved in front of her in an act of protection. Juliet peered over his shoulder to see what exactly Erik was doing.

"A splendid party, I must say," Erik said with an evil smirk. "You must have been working very hard to set it up, am I correct?"

The room filled with an eerie silence as Erik made his way down the grand staircase.

"You thought you were finally rid of me," he said. "But, as you can now clearly see, you were wrong. How could I leave my home, the opera house, especially now, when I have a gift, so to speak, to give you."

Glancing in Lefevre's direction, he expertly tossed the score for "Don Juan" at his feet. The folder hit the floor with a menacing thud.

"The name of the piece is 'Don Juan Triumphant'," he said. "You will find the entire score of the opera inside, with my personal choice of casting. You will obey my instructions," he warned, drawing his sword threateningly, "and perform my work, or face the rather life threatening consequences."

Erik pointed the sword at La Carlotta. "Miss Carlotta here shall play a small part, the role of Mariana, for it involves little singing."

Carlotta's jaw dropped, insulted.

"Monsieur Piangi," Erik continued, "shall play Don Juan, but might I suggest you lose some weight for the role?"

Piangi's eyes went wide, eyeing the sword that was now pointed at his stomach.

"And, Monsieur Lefevre, you must learn to stay out of the arts, and in your office. Leave everything else to the people in charge of the performances."

Juliet's heart pounded in her ears, her breathing coming in shallow gasps. Patrick kept an arm protectively around her, but once getting an idea, left.

"As for the lead soprano," he said, "the part of Amanita…"

Erik's eyes fell on Juliet. Longing flashed in his expression as he took in her fear, her beauty, her urge to run. Juliet noticed, but didn't say anything. She barely noticed that Patrick had left.

"Miss Thompson shall play the female lead," he said. "But, as far as her vocal experience is concerned, she has much to learn. If her pride, and courtier, should let her return to me, I may teach her to sing with her heart and soul, not just her voice."

Juliet stared at him, awe struck. She saw the hope and longing in his eyes, and, in a trance, moved slowly toward him.

Erik's heart took off as she walked the remaining distance towards him. His breathing went heavy as she stared into his eyes, her reaction to his emotions obvious. She was amazed, yet confused. In a daze.

What set him off was something she wore around her neck. It was a heart shaped locket, gold, and engraved to the front were the words, "Love, Patrick".

He growled under his breath, grabbing the locket and ripping it off. Juliet gasped, clutching her neck.

"Your chains are still mine!" he shouted. Moving closer, he added in a harsh whisper, "You belong to _me_!"

Erik ran to the head of the staircase, swirling his cloak around him, then disappearing in a column of smoke. A hole, a trap door, was left where he had once stood.

Patrick sprinted into the scene, now wearing a sword in his belt. He ran towards the trap door, jumping inside before it closed.

"No, Patrick!" Juliet shouted in fear, but it was too late.

Patrick sheathed his sword, searching for the Phantom. All he saw were mirrors.

There! Patrick slashed at the Phantom, his sword merely hitting air.

Wait… mirrors.

Illusions. It wasn't the Phantom; only his reflection.

There he was again! Only this time, there were three of him.

Patrick spun around, his back facing the reflections of the Phantom.

The Phantom stood before him, sword in one hand, Punjab lasso in the other.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said. "Yet. Only because it would hurt Juliet."

With a swish of his cloak, the Phantom disappeared.

Patrick searched the mirrored room, when, suddenly, one of the mirror's slid downward, creating a doorway, which led to a secret hall. He ran out, looking for another exit, when four columns of stone slid downward, creating another exit.

He ran toward the exit. Turning around, he shouted, "Thank you!", before running out.

"You're welcome," the Phantom hissed, coming out of his hiding place in the shadows. He followed a series of twisting halls and complicated corridors, which finally led to his lair.

"Let the fun begin," he whispered with a grin as sleep finally took its claim on him. He fell to his swan bed, dreaming of Juliet.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8: An Eclipse Situation_

Juliet sat alone in her room, haunted by the previous night's events. Erik had crashed the masquerade, stolen Patrick's Christmas present to her, and given her another production to star in. Obviously, she had a lot on her mind.

A soft knock came to her door.

"Come in," she said, starting to pace.

The door opened. Little eight year old Christine Daae walked in.

"Hello, Christine," she said. "How can I help you?"

Christine's face was white with fear as she sat on Juliet's bed.

"I'm scared, Juliet," she said. "The Opera Ghost, I've heard his voice before. Many times. On one of my first nights here, a voice, _his _voice, told me that he was the Angel of Music, sent by my… father. But now… now, I- I don't know!"

Christine started to cry. Juliet sat next to her, stroking her curly hair.

"He taught me to- to sing," she said. "But- but now I- I don't know if my- my father went to- to heaven or not!"

"Of course your father went to heaven!" Juliet assured her. "I hope that phantom can hear me right now, so I can tell him how horribly deceitful, how outwardly rude he's been."

In the shadows, Erik cringed.

Christine began to smile. "Thank you, Juliet," she said.

"Now go back to the dormitories before you worry Madame Giry sick!" Juliet said.

"I hope the Opera Ghost doesn't hurt you," she said. "Meg and I are praying he doesn't."

Juliet beamed at the child. "Don't go on worrying about me!" she said, shaking her head. "But between you and me," she added, her voice becoming a whisper as she said into Christine's ear, "I think he likes me."

Christine giggled, running out the door.

"Bye, Juliet!" she called.

"Bye!" Juliet called back.

Juliet scanned the room, expecting Erik to randomly pop out of nowhere. When she saw no sign of Erik, she went to her little washroom to change into a nightgown.

When Juliet came out, she saw the figure of a man in the shadows.

"What do you want?" she asked, fear clouding the brave tone she'd intended.

Erik grinned at her frightened tone. In reality, he had no clue why he'd come to her room that night.

"Apparently I like you?" he asked in return, smirking as he held back a chuckle.

Juliet rolled her eyes, but the effect wasn't as casual as Juliet planned, for it was still blatantly obvious that she was scared stiff.

"Apparently you do," she retorted weakly. "Or you wouldn't be here."

That took Erik off guard. It was true; he wouldn't be here if he couldn't care less about her.

"I'm simply waiting for you to realize," he said, to her _and _his surprise, "how much the feeling is applied."

Juliet's eyes went wide. "E-Erik… I- I…"

Erik laughed, shaking his head. "Relax, Miss Thompson," he said. "You're safe. At least for tonight."

Juliet panicked, reaching for the door, but, as usual, Erik got there before her.

"Please," he said, resting a hand on her cheek. "Would I do such a thing if I love you and know it would displease you?"

To both of their surprise, she calmed down at his words.

"Erik," she said slowly. "I love Patrick. Not you. And you're making it very hard to- to not hurt you and love him at the same time. Not that I ever loved you, but the way you're always around has… affected me, and I- I- oh, hang it all…"

Juliet hung her head, trying not to cry because of what she was thinking, what she was feeling. She didn't want to hurt him, but he was practically controlling her. She was being affected by him, the way he constantly watched over her, the way he treated her, and she was beginning to love him.

Love him? No! She _loved _Patrick, Erik was just a friend she didn't want to see hurt.

Please excuse the author as she brings _Twilight _into the subject again.

Juliet was in an _Eclipse _situation.

On one hand, her courtier, Patrick, was everything she could ask for; a lover, protector, and a true gentleman. An added plus would be that he came from a rich family, and could provide for her. Not that she cared that he was rich; no, she wasn't the kind of girl who would take advantage of that sort of thing.

On the other hand, Erik was her best friend, her first companion at the opera house, someone who understood her pain, someone who loved her as well. He was kind, passionate about all he did, and could provide for her just as well as Patrick.

What, you ask, happened to Juliet hating his guts?

Juliet had realized that he couldn't have known that this would happen to her, that she'd be thrown into another country just so her parents could be rid of her. Besides, if she hadn't been shipped to France, she would never have met Patrick.

Tears began to escape Juliet's eyes as she thought of the decision she'd have to make. It was a lot of pressure, yet she knew in her heart that it was Patrick she loved the most, not Erik.

Erik caught a few tears with his finger. "Juliet, please don't cry," he begged. "Or you'll have both of us in tears."

Juliet looked up at Erik. "You called me Juliet."

Erik smirked, it was true; he usually called her Miss Thompson.

"Yes, I suppose I did," he said. "Now, it's getting late; you should rest."

Juliet hesitated before walking over to the bed. She pulled the covers over her, asking Erik to stay as he walked toward the door.

"If you wish me to," he said. Juliet nodded.

Erik pulled a chair up to Juliet's bed, sitting and humming a lullaby. Juliet smiled, recognizing it, and began to sing;

_Bonsoir, bonne nuit, _

_Couvert de roses, _

_Garnies de petits ongles, _

_Glisse sous l'édredon: _

_Demain matin, si Dieu veut, _

_Tu seras à nouveau éveillé, _

_Demain matin, si Dieu veut, _

_Tu seras à nouveau éveillé, _

Erik joined her at the last verse, singing along with her.

_Bonsoir, bonne nuit, _

_Gardé par des angelots, _

_Qui te montrent en rêve _

_L'arbre du petit enfant Jésus: _

_Dors seulement, bienheureux et doucement_

_Regarde dans les rêves du Paradis_

_Dors seulement, bienheureux et doucement_

_Regarde dans les rêves du Paradis. _

With one last glance at Erik, who was staring at her with a loving expression, Juliet closed her eyes, allowing sleep to claim her. In her dreams, she was haunted by the eminent decision of Patrick vs. Erik.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9: _

Tonight was the night. The opening night of Erik's "Don Juan Triumphant".

Everybody was bound to be nervous. It was the Phantom's work, and very… Don Juan like. The music was beautiful, they had to admit. It was a work of art, and Erik was the artist. But it was seductive on Don Juan's behalf, and clueless on Amanita's.

At first, the show went without a hitch. The performance went wonderfully, and the crowd was mildly pleased with this never before seen opera.

Then Piangi went missing, just after the third act. Right before the climatic "Past the Point of No Return".

"What shall we do now?" Lefevre ranted while panicking backstage. They were having a short intermission, and Piangi was nowhere to be found.

"I will find a suitable understudy." The Phantom's voice boomed over all the chatter backstage.

The theater fell silent as the curtains parted once more. Hesitantly, and very much afraid, Juliet walked onstage, holding a bouquet of roses. She began to sing,

_No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy,_

_No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!_

Juliet kneeled on the stage, playing with the ribbon on the flowers. The ribbon was supposed to red, but it had been replaced with a black one. A note had been stuck between the flowers, which she hadn't noticed before.

It was a tiny piece of paper. Trying to compose her expression for the production's sake, she read,

_Mon Un et Uniquement, Juliet,_

_I shall be seeing you very soon._

_O.G_

Juliet's heart pounded in her ears. Her breathing was shallow, and her eyes went wide.

_So much for composure_, she thought. _Maybe he'll just say hello _after _the show._

With her luck, that wasn't the case.

"Master!" she heard the man playing Passerino say.

"Passerino…" _his _voice whispered. "Go away, for the trap is set, and waits for its prey."

Juliet panicked. _Oh, wonderful. Patrick! Help!_

Of course, no one could hear her thoughts. Besides, the audience had ears only for Don Juan.

_You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge_

_In pursuit of that wish, which 'til now, has been silent…_

Juliet dared look up at Don Juan. It definitely wasn't Piangi. This man was taller, skinnier, and had golden eyes, not Piangi's plain brown.

Erik!

_I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge_

_In your mind you've already succumbed to me,_

_Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me…_

Slowly, Juliet was falling under the seductive spell of Erik's voice. She closed her eyes, only able to imagine the truth behind the words they would sing. She was imagining how Amanita felt when seduced by Don Juan, imagining what her lyrics said she imagined, and then, she focused on nothing but Erik, Erik and his voice.

_And now you are here with me, no second thoughts,_

_You've decided…_

Juliet was falling for him. That Erik could see clearly. He smiled to himself. The trap had been set, the prey was captured.

_Decided…_

Juliet stood up, facing Erik, eyes wide in amazement.

_Past the point of no return,_

_No backward glances_

_The games we've played 'til now are at an end._

_Past all thought of if or when_

_No use resisting_

_Abandon thought and let the dream descend…_

Erik was advancing on her, slowly walking towards her, then sneaking behind her, wrapping his hands around her throat seductively, not threateningly like he had before. Juliet leaned into his embrace, every part of her body on fire from his touch.

_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_

_What rich desire unlocks its door?_

_What sweet seduction lies before us?_

Erik's hands strayed down her arm, picking up her hand and kissing it lightly. Juliet's jaw dropped, still in a daze.

Patrick was disgusted with the new Don Juan. He could see that she was falling for him. Did she know him? Could it possibly be…? Oh, but it was.

_The Phantom of the Opera_! He was seducing her with his voice!

Knowing that he had to save her, Patrick sprinted from his box, making his way to his bedroom. He needed his sword. And fast.

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold_

_What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn?_

_Beyond the point of no return…_

Juliet was so enthralled by Erik's voice, that she almost forgot to sing her part. She faced the audience to sing, but only so the song would sound at least halfway coherent.

_You have brought me, to that moment when words run dry_

_To that moment when speech disappears into silence_

_Silence…_

Erik simply watched her as she sang, her voice overwhelmed by all that was happening. She was so beautiful, and now, she was his.

_I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why_

_In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining_

_Defenseless and silent_

_And now I am here with you, no second thoughts_

_I've decided…_

The sleeves that had barely been sitting on her shoulders slid to her arms as she looked over at Erik.

_Decided…_

She turned to the wooden staircase, beginning the climb up the steps. Erik followed via a staircase parallel to the one she climbed. He had eyes only for her, watching silently as they walked.

_Past the point of no return_

_No going back now_

_Our passion play has now at last begun_

_Past all thought of right or wrong_

_One final question_

_How long should we two wait before we're one?_

_When will the blood begin to race?_

_The sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames at last consume us?_

Erik joined her at the last verse, slinging his cape over a wooden bar as they sang,

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold_

_The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn…_

Erik wrapped his arms around her waist, turning her around so her back pressed against his chest. Juliet's head leaned against his shoulder as he moved one hand up to caress her neck.

_We've passed the point of no return…_

Erik grinned triumphantly, looking upon his beautiful Juliet. She had succumbed to his voice, and was now his. But Erik had no patience to get through the rest of the opera. Juliet was under his spell _now_, but would it last? He had to escape with her before it was too late.

Erik made up a little tune on the spot, something to distract the audience, Juliet, and anybody on stage. At the end of the tune, he would kick the trap door open and escape with Juliet.

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Lead me, save me from my solitude._

_Say you'll want me with you here, beside you_

_Anywhere you go, let me go, too._

_Juliet, that's all I ask of you._

On 'you', Erik kicked the lever that controlled the trap door. He quickly got a strong but gentle grip on Juliet, and they fell fast into the depths below.

Juliet screamed as they plummeted below the opera, coming out of her daze and into her senses. She realized that this had been Erik's plan all along, entrance her with his voice, and escape with her. He was going to extreme lengths to earn her love. This act of bravery and love on Erik's behalf seemed to bring a new hate for him into her heart.

As soon as they landed, Erik collected Juliet in his arms. Juliet's head was spinning, not only from the great height they'd fallen from, but from all the events of the night. Too confused to continue, she fainted in Erik's arms.

Smiling, Erik walked the distance to the gondola smiling, then setting her in the boat so he could row them across the lake. He pulled the boat to shore, picking up Juliet, and carrying her to his swan bed. Gently, he set her down, kissed her forehead, and closed the velvet curtains to the room.


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10: _

Juliet woke up the next morning with a slight headache, and in a strange place. She was surrounded by black velvet curtains, and on the bedside table next to the swan bed she lay in was a music box, shaped like a barrel organ, with a monkey in Persian robes sitting atop it. Slowly, she reached for a rope and tugged on it, causing the curtains to slowly ascend.

Peering around, Juliet stood up. The night before flooded into her head. She was still wearing the Amanita costume from "Don Juan", and her mind still echoed Erik's singing.

_Erik_, she thought. _I need to find Erik. Erik, and a way out of this place._

Juliet stepped into the candle filled room outside Erik's bedroom. The room was empty, except for her, the candles, the organ, and the desk.

"Erik?" she asked softly, tentatively. She proceeded through the room, searching for his familiar form.

"Yes?" his voice asked, using the same seductive tone from the night before.

Juliet's heart pounded in her ears, her hands clammy. Before she could turn around, Erik's arms were around her waist. Juliet groaned, overwhelmed by the fire she felt from his touch. Erik grinned, raising a hand to caress her cheek. He spun her around, capturing Juliet's face gently in his hands.

"I- I…" Juliet couldn't manage a coherent sentence. Erik brushed a stray piece of hair from her face, leaned his face towards hers, and kissed her softly. It was the second kiss they'd shared, and both rather enjoyed the latter. His lips moved softly, gently, against hers, and she could've stayed in his embrace forever, when he suddenly pulled away. Juliet looked up at him, disappointment clear across her face. Leaning up towards Erik, _she _kissed _him_.

This took Erik by surprise, even more so when she deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around him. His hand moved to the nape of her neck, pushing her face closer. Her entire body was on fire, and, to her dismay, Erik pulled away again.

Juliet raised an eyebrow. "Why, might I ask, do you pull away constantly?"

Erik managed a wan smile. "Forgive me, _mon amour_, I am not used to being lusted for instead of rejected."

His words sank into himself, the truth of the matter clear. He had seduced her, but that had only made her _want _him, not love him. His plan had, in a way, blown up in his face. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up the night before.

The words he spoke affected Juliet, as well. For she loved him, loved _and _lusted for him, but she loved Patrick, as well. Who she loved more, she had yet to learn. She would learn the truth one day, but by then, would it be too late? Would she be married to one, and fall in love with the other?

Sheer panic and fear spread through her, causing her body to shake. Erik lifted her head with his hand, cupping her cheek.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"I-" she began. "I love you. I really do. But I- I love you _both_. You _and _Patrick. And I can only choose one of you, and I'm afraid of making a really big mistake. What if I choose one man, but fall for the other, and it's too late? I can't, Erik! I just can't choose! It's hurting me! The pressure, fear of making a mistake, it's killing me!"

Tears began to fall freely from her eyes, sobs wracking through her body. Erik carried her to the organ bench, sitting beside her.

"Don't cry," he murmured. "Everything is going to work out, everything will be fine, please, don't cry."

Juliet could only hope his words were true.

**~0~0~0~0~0~**

Juliet spent the majority of her day listening to Erik's music, hoping to calm herself, and banish her fears.

Conflict still swam through her mind. Images of both Patrick and Erik floated past her eyes. Her decision was inevitable, and she couldn't decide. One side of her heart belonged to Patrick, her first love. The other was devoted to Erik.

But she could only choose one, and she couldn't decide.

Spending the day with Erik would no doubt weigh heavily upon her decision, which made her think; who did she _really _love first? For if she'd loved Patrick first, she would've been trying her best to leave, not insisting she _stay_.

She had loved Erik first. She'd loved him since he first spoke to her, since he stitched her wound, ached secretly when he didn't appear in his year-long absence. She loved him for going to all possible lengths for trying to make her love him, loved how he'd do anything for her.

It was true she loved both men, and both men loved her, but it was obvious who she loved more.

Juliet smiled to herself.

She had decided.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11: Love You, Too_

Patrick had spent the last three hours trying to find his way through the never-ending corridors and twisting hallways, secret passageways of the opera. He had to find Juliet, save him from that monster, the Opera Ghost.

Patrick seemed to lose all hope as he came across a large staircase. Large didn't seem to cover it; it swirled down miles and miles, mist floating upward from… was that a _lake_?

Patrick turned around, trying a different direction. He soon found himself falling down what appeared to be a trap door. After falling, he found himself at the foot of some stairs. With a groan, Patrick climbed, for there was no other way out.

Patrick had a crazy idea. He had read in a book once, where a character had to open the right door and proceed through, the doors with trap doors that sent you falling were ways of telling you that you were going the wrong way. Could it be that easy?

After several minutes, Patrick returned to the hallway with the trap door. He backtracked to the hallway before it. Just as he thought- there were seven hallways to choose from.

Clever ghost.

Patrick tried another hall. Again, he fell. He formed a sort of pattern; try, fall, climb.

He finally reached the second to last corridor, after much trial and error. Hesitantly, he walked through.

He didn't fall.

With a silent sigh of relief, Patrick trekked forward, in the direction of the Phantom's lair. He walked for quite some time, soon coming across a lake.

_A lake? Underground?_ he thought. _Odd. Wait- maman once mentioned a flood that occurred here many years ago. The phantom must have used it to his advantage._

Seeing no means for transportation across, he skimmed the sides of the lake. The water seemed to go on forever, when he saw a bright, golden light ahead. He walked faster.

Soon a giant steel gate, rusty from years of use, came into view. Inside was a tiny mass of land, surrounded by water. The light he'd seen came from the many candles in the room. An organ was placed to one side, a desk cluttered with papers and drawings could be seen, and a corner of the room had been blocked off by a velvet curtain. Juliet nor the phantom could be seen.

Then he saw them, walking out from a hallway hidden by his point of view. They were holding hands, smiling and talking.

"Juliet!" he called as loudly as possible.

"Patrick!" she exclaimed, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you!" he said. Why else would he be here, in the damp, misty caverns of the opera. "For heavens sakes, you monster, let her go!"

"Don't listen to him," she said. "You're not a monster, you never were, and you never will be."

"Do me a favor, Chevalier," the phantom said. "Leave, and never come back."

"Not until you let her go!" Patrick said.

"I'm staying here, with him," Juliet said.

Patrick's eyes went wide. "Why? Please fill me in, apparently I missed something important."

With a pleading glance at Erik, Juliet walked through the water towards the gate. She clutched Patrick's hand through one of the bars.

"Patrick," she began slowly. "I love you. I really do."

Patrick sighed, Erik rolled his eyes, waiting for the rest.

"But I love you both," she continued. "I've been completely miserable since 'Don Juan', trying to decide who I loved more. And it's him, Patrick. I've known him longer, I've loved him longer. My choice is him, it always has been and always will be him. But, please remember that I love you, too. I know, it's cruel and unfair, but you're not the only one suffering. I'll always have to deal with the fact that I left you with a broken heart."

Patrick stared at her for a long time. Juliet's throat became swollen, tears flowing down her cheeks, unable to say more.

Slowly, Patrick let go of her hand, turned, and left. Juliet stood motionless at the gate for some time, before collapsing in the water, sobbing.

Erik ran in after, holding her as she cried.

"I thought I could say it without hurting him," she sobbed. "But I couldn't, and now- now…" She cut herself off with her own tears.

"If it hurts you so much, maybe you should go with him," he said.

"No!" she cried, eyes wide. "I could never leave you."

Erik managed a small smile, kissing her lightly.

"Maybe we should continue this elsewhere," he said. "After all, we're standing in the middle of a lake, when there's a very nice swan bed up there."

Juliet smiled mischievously. "Sounds like a plan."


	12. Author's Note

**Okay, guys. I haven't updated in a while. And you know what that means!**

**Erik: No, they probably don't. **

**Madi: Who invited you here?**

**Juliet: I did.**

**Madi: Why?**

**Juliet: The authoress is writing a sequel to **_**Always Expect the Unexpected**_**, which she will call **_**Take What You Get, And Give Nothing Back**_**. **

**Madi: I totally stole that line from Pirates of the Caribbean.**

**Jack: Ye stole me line! **

**Madi: At least I left your rum alone!**

**Jack: Well…**

**Madi: Go away, Jack.**

**Erik: How in the world did you become a pirate?**

**Jack: Don't ask me, mate. I just love the sea. The sea and rum. Don't touch me rum. Savvy?**

**Madi: Go! Or I shall send my Ninja Pirate Vampire Jedi Narnian Battle Force against you! That, and Erik!**

**Jack: I'm going! *leaves on Black Pearl***

**Juliet: What's going on over here? And since when does the story have to do with pirates?**

**Madi: Since Jack Sparrow decided to show up.**

**Erik: Why did you decide to name the story that?**

**Madi: I couldn't think of anything else, okay? **

**Erik: It deserves something more romantic and exciting.**

**Madi: Shut up.**

**Erik: Maybe a famous line from a song.**

**Madi: Shut up.**

**Erik: How about **_**Twisted Every Way**_**? It fit's the storyline a bit.**

**Madi: SHUT UP!**

**Juliet: I agree with Erik. It sounds good.**

**Erik: Thank you, mon amour.**

**Jack: She's a keeper, mate.**

**Madi: I thought I told you to leave!**

**Tumnus: I agree with Juliet. It is a nice title.**

**Erik: What are **_**you **_**doing here? It's bad enough I had to deal with you in The Narnian Phantom Stallion's story, not **_**again**_**!**

**Madi: Relax. Tumnus isn't in the story. What exactly are you doing here?**

**Tumnus: Lucy says hello, Erik.**

**Erik: Tell her that I'll be visiting her soon, goatlegs.**

**Tumnus: Hey!**

**Madi: Bye! Tumnus **_**and **_**Jack!**

**Jack: I'm going!**

**Tumnus: Good day! *walks through wardrobe into Narnia***

**Madi: So, I guess the story is now called **_**Twisted Every Way**_**, thanks to Erik.**

**Erik: You're welcome.**

**Madi: One word: sarcasm.**

**Juliet: Guys! **

**Madi and Erik: What?**

**Juliet: Stop fighting! It's making me sad!**

**Erik: Look what you did!**

**Madi: Hey! This was your fault!**

**Juliet: Guys!**

**Erik: How was it my fault? You started it!**

**Madi: Did not!**

**Juliet: Guys?**

**Erik: Did too!**

**Madi: Did not!**

**Erik: Oui!**

**Madi: Non!**

**Erik: Oui!**

**Madi: Non!**

**Juliet: GUYS!**

**Madi and Erik: Yes?**

**Juliet *sighs* See you in the sequel, readers. If they survive…**

**Madi: Non!**

**Erik: Oui!**

**Madi: Non!**

**Erik: OUI!**

**Madi: NON!**


End file.
